Sisters
by MissTempleton
Summary: Sometimes things need to be said out loud.


**Sisters**

"Bye, Lisbeth! Have a nice nap!"

Phryne lifted her head from her book as she heard the beach party return, and waited for the parlour door to frame a sand-strewn Jane. When no young woman was forthcoming, she thought for a moment, then closed the book and, placing it on the side table, uncurled from her chair to go and look out of the door.

She was so quiet in her movements that she came upon her adoptive daughter standing in the hallway gazing at the stairs with an oddly sombre expression, before the younger woman realised she was being observed.

"Jane?"

The girl started, and turned a slightly too-bright smile on Miss Fisher.

"Miss Phryne! I didn't see you there."

Phryne grinned. "I've been taking stealth lessons from Soo. I'm glad they're working."

Jane laughed properly this time, and came to link arms and walk back into the parlour. Then she looked down at herself distastefully.

"I really should go for a bath rather than sit down. We buried me in the sand, and I'm afraid the cleansing process was a bit … sketchy."

A light sprinkling of the St Kilda strand offered testament, and Jane muttered a quick "blast!".

"Oh, don't worry," said Phryne lightly. "Back in the Regency they used to sprinkle ash on the carpet to get it clean. I'm sure sand works the same way."

"Actually …" Jane started to explain the housekeeping mantra in question but subsided as Phryne pressed her hand.

"Darling, I wasn't looking for a tutorial, I promise. Lecture Mr B as much as you like!" she smiled. Then tipped her head. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, of course," replied Jane. Then, unnerved by Miss Fisher's unswerving regard, stammered a little. "W-why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason," said Phryne lightly. "I always love seeing you and Elizabeth together. Was she troublesome? At the beach, I mean?"

"No, not at all," Jane averred. Then gave Phryne a humorous glance. "She's a minx, though. I said we weren't going in the sea this time, but you know she loves the shallows in the afternoon, when it's warm … and she trotted off and was up to her ankles, sandals and all, while I was still taking my shoes off!"

Phryne gave an appreciative chuckle. "You can't blame your sister for that, though. You and she have exactly the same view on the time of day for bathing."

Jane was silent, and Phryne raised her head assessingly. "Jane?"

Jane gave a wooden look in response. _How very like Jack she is_ , Phryne thought absently, then paid attention to words that were clearly being fought for. "She's not really my sister. If we're alike, it's coincidence, not causality."

Phryne felt something like a punch in the region of her solar plexus, but answered cheerfully enough. "True. It's odd, isn't it, how we build our families? We've all been here for years now, and I'm sure a stranger would be hard pushed to tell who's a blood relative of whom."

Jane looked at her for a moment, then gave a weak attempt at a grin which was mostly hidden in a production of dusting more sand off her frock. "I'm sure you're right. Anyway, I'm going to go and clog up the bath …"

"Jane."

The word was spoken so quietly that it could have been missed – had the person to whom it was addressed not wanted so desperately, in her heart of hearts, to hear it.

"Are you unhappy that I adopted you?"

 _How like Miss Phryne_ , thought Jane, even as the tears started to her eyes. _No beating around the bush, and no question of ignoring the issue_.

"Jane?" Almost a whisper this time.

"No." The word was addressed to the floor. Then, still to the floor, but more hesitantly; perhaps the floor could act as intermediary? "Not really. But it's not the same, is it? For Lisbeth and me? With you and Uncle Jack?"

Then she looked up, smiling bravely and pretending her eyes weren't swimming. "I don't mind, Miss Phryne. Really, I don't. I've been so lucky. You gave me so much, when I thought I didn't have anything to hope for. Now I've got … well, everything, really. My place at University, my home here, and I can still see mum as often as she can handle it." She swallowed hard, and her voice was a little gruff. "I know I can never mean as much to you as Lisbeth does – that would be nonsensical. She's your blood family, and I'm not."

"Oh, Jane, darling girl, don't you see? It's the other way round!"

Jane looked at her, mystified.

Phryne took her hand and drew her to the window seat, where they sat facing one another.

"Elizabeth is – yes, mine. Jack's and mine. An immense luxury and responsibility and joy." She gave a wry look. "And she'd not even two years old yet. I refuse to admit for _a nanosecond_ that my view on small children might have undergone any change." Then she reached for Jane's other hand and squeezed them both in hers.

"Jane, you're only mine because I chose you. In fact, more than that – I had to fight for you. We both did, really – it's thanks to Jack that the adoption went through. I only know for certain how much I had to do; I've no idea what lengths he went to on my – _our_ – behalf." She gave the tiniest smile. "But we did it. Between us we did it."

Jane's frown was slightly softened, and her eyes started to regain something of their former light.

Phryne continued. "I know that I can only be a mother to you in some ways, not all. I can pick you up when you fall down, but I don't know whether you've had the measles; I can pay for your education – in fact, dear girl, I am actively rejoicing in paying for your education, and the world will rejoice as well when it takes delivery of the Fully Educated Jane in a couple of years' time."

By now, Jane was smiling properly. Here – in academia – she was on secure ground once more. To suggest that her training in medicine might take a little longer than a couple of years would, she thought, be churlish when Miss Phryne was on a rhetorical roll.

She stood, and was making her way gingerly to the door of the parlour, trying not to drop any more sand than was absolutely necessary during her progress when the front door opened again, and slammed shut.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

"In here, Jack," called Phryne, winking at Jane, who went to stand at the door and give the Chief Inspector a mock-bow as he joined the assembled company.

"Actually, Jack," Phryne said as he entered the room and greeted the womenfolk therein with affection, and possibly slightly more Dessicated Seashell than he might normally have expected, "you could settle an argument for us."

He looked from one to the other apprehensively. "I can try …?"

Phryne assumed the dignity of a judge in command of the courtroom.

"Detective Chief Inspector Robinson, precisely how much work and how much string-pulling was involved in securing the fostering and eventual adoption of Miss Jane Ross by this household?"

Jack's shoulders dropped with relief; would that every courtroom question was as easy as this one. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked from the Judge to the Witness with a smile in his eyes.

"Not enough to be regarded as commensurate with the reward, Miss Fisher. Not nearly enough."


End file.
